Flea Powder
by Working-On-Sanity
Summary: Meowth could scratch and scratch, but only James could relieve that one stubborn itch. Meowth/James.


**FLEA POWDER**

**Summary: **Meowth could scratch and scratch, but only James could relieve that one stubborn itch. Meowth/James.

**Author's Note: **I would classify this as a drabble, but technically, it isn't. It's a bit too long to be a drabble. I don't like writing things that are shorter than a thousand words, but this thing refused to get bigger. My sister dared me to do it, and her birthday is coming up, so I couldn't resist. Happy birthday, then, dear sis. Even if it is just James and Meowth being mushy. I love you anyway.

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><p>"Meowth?"<p>

James watched Meowth intently, worry tugging at his mind. The cat was sprawled on the floor, chewing with furious fervor at the ragged white fur of his leg. His nose was crinkled in a scowl, and the more viciously he gnawed, the more fiercely agony seemed to attack him. He stretched his leg straight to gain access to the soft, downy underside, biting savagely at the smooth skin and curling his toes in frustration.

"Are you alright?" James crouched next to Meowth, extending his hand to fondle the Pokémon's crooked black ear. Meowth immediately flattened his ears to his scalp, his whiskers quivering with suppressed indignation. At James's determined prodding, he released his hold on his leg, his large eyes squinted as he snarled.

"Of course I ain't alright, princess!" he snapped rudely. "I got this _itch_, this stinkin' _itch_, and it won't let me be! Every single time I think I'm 'bout to hit it, it moves outta my reach. And it's makin' me so sick!" The harsh way he clawed with his hind paw at the scruff of his neck seemed to add a punctuation of finality to his outburst.

Ignoring the angry manner in which Meowth had addressed him, James sympathetically bent his lips in a rueful smile. He sat down lightly, tugging his legs into a comfortable crossed position and patting his knee in a gesture that instructed Meowth to perch in his lap. Begrudgingly, Meowth clambered over James's ankles, rolling onto his side to chew at his exposed belly. The skin twitched with irritation, and James was stricken by pity.

"Come here, you grouch," he teased, playfully grabbing Meowth's foreleg and shaking the tension from the tightened muscles. "You wouldn't stay mad at me, you know you can't. Don't be trying to act like Jessie, now."

He tucked his hand beneath Meowth's stiff body, urging him to flop onto his back. Meowth unwillingly obeyed, draping his tail over James's thigh and watching him in a mixture of curiosity and nonchalance. He made no attempt at protesting as James began to scratch his stomach, curling his fingers into his thick white fur and rumpling it––his touch was so tender over Meowth's inflamed flesh that the Scratch Cat sighed with relief, falling limp in his warm lap.

"That... that actually feels sorta nice, there," Meowth breathed, kicking his leg instinctively against James's elbow as James massaged his fingertips into his belly. A husky purr rattled from his throat before he could stifle it, and he jerked his forelegs against his chest in embarrassment.

"Y––you didn't hear that," he protested awkwardly, dropping his gaze to the floor. There was a prolonged silence before James glanced at him in wonder, his eyes glistening with unmasked affection.

"There's no reason to be ashamed of anything," he said quietly, dragging his own searching stare away from Meowth's heaving stomach. "It's just kind of... weird, I guess, hearing you make those noises like a regular old Meowth."

Meowth raked his mind for a suitable answer, but by the time he stumbled over one that didn't seem very foolish, too much time had passed for a reply. He reclined in James's lap, relaxing as James continued to rub his smooth stomach. Meowth was astonished that, no matter how erratically the itch skipped through his fur, James always managed to find it and dissolve it with loving caresses.

"How are you able to do that?" Meowth asked incredulously, curling his tail languidly around James's wrist. "You keep hitting that one spot that I never could reach by myself. I could try for hours, _knowing _where it itches, and never be able to stop it, and you can hit the spot without me even telling you where it is. How can you do it? It's scary."

James appeared unsettled by Meowth's question, a crease of discouragement marking his brow. Thoughtfully, he pressed his fingertips into the shallow dips between Meowth's ribs, gnawing on his lower lip in intense contemplation.

"I don't know," he finally answered, his voice gentle and subdued. He lifted one hand to swat away the strand of hair that dangled over his forehead, and sighed deeply, hooking his arms beneath Meowth's forelegs and holding him lonesomely against his chest. He idly rocked him from side to side, oblivious to how the brass charm on Meowth's forehead winked with contentment in the dim light.

"Maybe I'm just a really good guesser," he decided, resting his chin on Meowth's head.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>And I don't even know how that was intended to be romantic. It was more friendshippy than anything. Friendshippy and corny. I'm trying, world. But it's BlueShipping! And what does that have to do with anything? Everything! I'm making no sense because I'm tired. This story made no sense because I'm tired. We just got two new mutt puppies for my brother and sister. And who has to clean up after them? Yours truly. They cry all night long. I've actually got bags under my eyes! Eek, another blemish! I've got to sleep. Leave feedback if you wish.


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